#rotless

        enid pales at the question.  of course she’d be called   in for questioning — she was one of the only students who brought a normie to the rave’n, after all, and her date was specifically the one responsible for the night’s awful end.  or at least he wanted to for the most part; lucas did seem sorry about what his friends did, but... well, it didn’t matter.  what’s done was done.  she was sure those boys were being dealt with too, but how unfortunate that they couldn’t have been called in by principal weems as well.

“we were about to go dance, and then he said he had to take a call or something.”  she fiddles with her sleeves nervously, a complicated expression on her face as she adds, “i didn’t know what lucas and his friends were planning for the night, i promise.”

&.    @rotless​    prompt:    hey    !     what’d    you    do    that    for    ?    /    from    enid    !

  would    send    thing    to    put    her    out    of    a    hardly    tiresome    misery    if    he    hadn’t    been    occupied    painting    the    epitome    of    sunshine’s    nails    in    disgustingly    vibrant    bile    (    a    comfort    buried    deep    within    the    filled    space    of    her    chest    .    .    .    that    the    two    ignited    a    warmth    where    a    determination    for    isolation    once    existed    ).    wood    creaks    underneath    the    weight    of    the    chair,    a    cloud    of    gloom    floating    across    divided    lines    &    into    uncharted    territory    (    how    one    wasn’t    blinded    by    hues    of    pastel    still    left    the    girl    puzzled    ).    the    vibrations    of    annoyance    brought    on    by    the    blaring    podcast    coming    to    a    complete    halt    .    .    .    the    torture    almost    enjoyable,    closely    to    rival    that    of    legally    blonde    .    .    .    but    now    wasn’t    the    time    to    dabble    in    discomfort                    ❛                            the    never    ending    babbling    was    enough    to    make    ears    bleed    .    .    .    &    not    in    an    enjoyable    way.                                                ❜    brows    twitch    in    the    slightest,    a    cord    dropped    with    an    audible    thud    before    turning    sharply    to    return    to    her    partition,    the    blissful    peace    of    silence    wrapped    around    her    like    a    cocoon    to    be    interrupted    by    comforting    clicks    of    keys.    words    thrown    over    a    greyscale    clad    shoulder,    surely    there    was    gossip    spreading    the    halls    to    fill    the    near    overwhelming    space    of    her    dormmates    attention        ❛                            i’m    attempting    to    focus    on    words    that    matter,    not    ones    of    unfathomable    blathering    that    rival    even    that    senseless    blog    of    yours.                                                ❜    &    yet    despite    the    bite    of    an    insult,    wednesday    found    herself    keeping    track    of    enid’s    posting,    to    be    blamed    on    inquisitiveness    rather    than    forethought    of    the    interests    of    another.  

@rotless​ ( joyce & mike )

HALLOWEEN STARTER CALL.

“    hello,   ma chérie. . .    ”       despite my grand entrance,   i did not make a sound.   i had slithered in through a window i forced open,   feet hovering above the carpet as it barely touched.   my voice ruined the surprise,   of course,   but i couldn't help it.   how bored i had been.        “    allow me to introduce myself,  for you have been looking for me.   i'm lestat.    ”       i thought of the old rules they once enforced in europe,   of how nameless should a vampire remain.   i had never been fond of rules,   or of self-preservation.   i arched my eyebrows and spread my arms with pride.

honesty hour w ziggy <3 ft. @rotless

there's the unmistakable tug of guilt pulling at her chest, forcing her to drop her gaze to the ground. it's not often cindy catches the younger girl off guard, but the way the question is asked, with simple vulnerability rather than her normal bickering tone stops ziggy in her tracks,